In the silence of night I have often wished for just a few words of love from one man, rather than the applause of thousands of people.
The hardest thing was learning to write. I was 13, and the only writing I had done was for Social Studies. It consisted of copying passages right out of the encyclopedia.
It is in the nature of the New Yorker to be as topical as possible, on a level that is often small in scale and playful in intention.